


Rippling Light

by Simply8Steps



Series: BSG Remixes [1]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: BSG Remix, CIC Buddies, Friendship, Gen, Gossip Buddies, They deserved better, mentions of cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 17:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11257326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simply8Steps/pseuds/Simply8Steps
Summary: Hopes may spring eternal, but they may not always remain true to reality.





	Rippling Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NicoleAnell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoleAnell/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Springs Eternal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/149793) by [NicoleAnell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoleAnell/pseuds/NicoleAnell). 



> Firstly, thank you to my wonderful beta, newnumbertwo, (though all mistakes remain my own). As the title of the original fic reminded me of the phrase that “hope springs eternal”, and that reminded me that a lot of New Caprica was based on hope – hope for a new start, new beginnings – for a new life and safety, and I wanted to explore the flip-side of hope in this remix, and the way that hope can also sometimes blind us- and these characters. Reading the original gave me the idea to try Gaeta’s perspective out on their opening conflict, and how they may have come full circle by the end. Because sometimes, hope isn’t always something we can hold onto by ourselves, but our friends can make it a bit easier to get a better grip and make the letting go of illusions a bit less painful and easier. (Original Remix posted at LJ BSG_Remix Community 06/09/2014.)

_Dream delivers us to dream, and there is no end to illusion. Life is like a train of moods like a string of beads, and, as we pass through them, they prove to be many-colored lenses which paint the world their own hue..._  
― Ralph Waldo Emerson  
  
  
They had become friends and confidantes purely by accident but with very little surprise. There are only so many people one meets when you live in an enclosed, vacuum-sealed bucket floating in empty space for the majority of your time, and their personalities just _fit_. They were fellow CIC mates - diligent and quietly competent. It was inevitable they would have to turn to _someone_ with all those very interesting pieces of information one gets their hands on when working in the information hub of a Battlestar. (Okay, so they started off more as gossip buddies, but confidantes were a next natural step. There’s something about learning about someone by talking about _other_ people that’s sorely underrated.) So why _not_ each other?  
  
They had made each other laugh and giggle, even after the worlds ended, and _that_ was just priceless. The fact that neither of them would have to apologize or explain their _need_ to be professional and competent and all those things expected from people who aren’t acknowledged much but keep everything running smoothly anyway, be it ships or the people living on them, was a relief. They were as much fellow soldiers-in-arms as any viper jock, handling computer systems in place of throttles and guns, voicing numbers, intel, and coordinates instead of orders (each one as critical to life as any strategic missile).  
  
It was really not that surprising that it took them so long to realize that so many similarities were going to make them come into conflict eventually. This argument had to have happened, it was only logical. Completely normal.  
  
This is all just speculation and rationalization on his part of course. Their first argument had blindsided the both of them a bit. Felix wasn’t deluding himself out of believing that her words hadn’t struck a nerve. That he was a large admirer of the great scientist D- Vice Pr- _President_ Gaius Baltar was no secret (he had gushed enough about the scientist to Dee for it be obvious).  
  
Because he was brilliant. Because he was a bright shining star in the world of science. Because he was… he sighs then, because he was attractive and beautiful, he quietly admits to himself. He had watched almost all of Baltar’s interviews back when he was a quickly rising star amongst the academic and social elite of Caprica. Baltar was attractive because he was confident in his intellect and wielded it without shyness or shame – beautiful _because_ he was so very brilliant and it cloaks himself in charm and suaveness, and Felix is torn between wanting that grace and presence and sheer cleverness for himself and wanting it in his arms.  
  
And because Dee had hit him with such unadulterated truth, he had struck back similarly. (Though, perhaps, she wasn’t doing it out of a quite so similar love for Roslin. And maybe any obligation she feels towards the former President was only slightly tinged by the idealism and love of two young men.) Now, it’s been two days of complete radio silence, and the guilt nags at him (not in the least because one of those young men is in the morgue and the other is sorting out the crisis that the recently destroyed, but ignored, _Cloud Nine_ disaster has created).  
  
And maybe that’s why he drags himself out of his cot (on the surface already with the retcon crew – let it not be said that the new President, or his Vice-President, is slow to action) and over to the nearest grounded Raptor to jumpstart the communications board and send a mostly garbled, awkwardly worded apology to Dee. He winces at the unprofessionalism of it all, sending _personal_ messages over the military comm line. Just a week as a civilian liaison for the new President and he’s already picking up bad habits. He refuses to think more on it.  
  


* * *

  
_A great deal of intelligence can be invested in ignorance…_  
  
  
When he next sees her, it’s several months past and she finally makes landfall for the groundbreaking. They have long forgiven each other by way of the wireless, but he finds some clenching thing deep inside his chest finally relaxing when he first catches sight of her smiling face as she walks towards him besides Lee Adama. She’s looking relaxed but somewhat, oddly awkward even as she smiles and unconsciously tilts her head into the sunlight.  
  
He notices that the commander’s eyes aren’t on her but on Captain Thrace who is laughing with her pyramid-happy lover near the landing field greeting other familiar men and women of the fleet, but brushes it off. You look at the people you haven’t seen all the time. The people you miss. Dee is looking at _him_ and it’s hardly a sign of infatuation, but it stays all the same, nagging at the back of his mind. (Just as the President’s refusal to investigate further into the explosion that destroyed _Cloud Nine_ remains nagging at the back of his mind and heart.)  
  
“Hey.”  
  
“Hey yourself, Felix.” Her ready smile turns teasing when she finally notices that he’s in a civilian suit. “Well, you clean up nicely.” She tugs and fixes his collar familiarly. (She’s done it before it seems.) “Very dapper.”  
  
Lee’s attention finally shifts away from the pilot then, and he wraps his arm around Dee’s shoulders. “Is there something you haven’t told me, Dee? Should I be jealous?” (Inside, Felix tells himself that Lee Adama is most certainly just teasing. There’s no reason for you to be riled up. And certainly, Dee’s a big girl. She’s tough, and she can take care of herself. She takes care of almost everyone else.)  
  
“No worries, Commander. Your XO-to-be is only plotting a coup with the administrative head of New Caprica. There’s nothing to worry about here.”  
  
“See that, Mr. Gaeta? Recently promoted, and she’s already trying to take charge.”  
  
“And who’s giving up precious time landside so you can go get drunk and make merry later tonight?”  
  
“You, oh delightful and dutiful soon-to-be XO.”  
  
“You better remember that.”  
  
As he watches them banter and kiss, Felix feels himself relax. His smile feels more genuine when he offers to get the commander a drink of New Caprica’s finest.  
  


* * *

  
_…when the need for illusion is deep._  
― Saul Bellow, _To Jerusalem and Back_  
  
  
When the esteemed Commander walks off with his drink to mingle with the military “shore leave” crowd from _Galactica_. Felix finally gets a chance to study Dee. She looks just as she did when he last saw her… during that ill-fated confessional turned argument. Her hair looks a bit longer, though that may just be because she’s left it down.  
  
She turns away from her study of the crowd then to study him with inquisitive and inquiring eyes. “How are you doing, Felix?” She accepts his non-alcoholic fruit drink with a grateful smile.  
  
He smiles brightly. “Well. I’m excited, happy to help make people happy.”  
  
She smirks, “Of _course_ you are, Felix. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be down _here_ ,” she attempts to say it neutrally but she can’t help the face she makes when she references the planet, “instead of up there in CIC maintaining sanity.” She only succeeds partially in keeping some of the harsher tones out of her voice. She’s always had that problem, speaking bluntly and honestly even though she doesn’t mean to hurt.  
  
Felix understands – in a way. She’s not skeptical of his skills or his abilities, but she is skeptical of the dream that is New Caprica. Skeptical of President Baltar’s promise that they would be safe here from the Cylons, but he ignores it. Today is too beautiful to begin another argument, so he changes the topic instead. “I see that the rumors flying around about you and Apollo aren’t greatly exaggerated.” He smiles as she makes a face at him but laughs all the same, appreciating, he thinks, that he was choosing to ignore her less than stellar attempt to begin conversation and avoid conflict. “You’re on shift for the night.”  
  
“Yes. The Old Man is leaving Helo in charge upstairs while he and the XO do the...,” she makes their old signal for when the Colonel would be hitting the flask, “I figure I might as well be Helo’s wing-woman tonight. He’s nervous enough as it is. I’m not even all that sad about missing the party…” She quirks her eyebrows at him.  
  
Felix laughs at the gesture. “Don’t worry, I’ll share every detail with you. I’ll spare you none of the gross drunkenness or second-hand embarrassment while everyone we know, and some we don’t, get sloshed and high.”  
  
“High?”  
  
“There’s this weed that they found near the larger water sources. Cottle says that they have a… nice effect. He’s looking into using it to replenish some of his supplies – purely for its soporific and pain-killing capabilities. _Of course._ ”  
  
“Of _course_.” Dee smiles softly back then. “I’ve missed you, Felix. The bridge is much more boring without you there.”  
  
“Of course, who else would let you know that one of Cottle’s most enthusiastic supporters in gathering the weed is our resident city school teacher and former president, Laura Roslin?”  
  
“ _What?!_ ”  
  
He’s smug as he leans into Dee’s conspiring ear.  
  


* * *

  
_“Why, if it was an illusion, not praise the catastrophe, whatever it was, that destroyed illusion and put truth in its place?”_  
― Virginia Woolf, _A Room of One's Own_  
  
  
Felix regrets his promise later, if only because it’s impossible to actually _keep_ it, he argues with himself as he knocks back another tumbler of stronger moonshine as Dee continues to nervously chatter on about the wedding plans and the press and media hype next to him. Even with her complaints and worries about the amount of attention the wedding is getting, she’s clearly excited and happy and hopeful. _This_ is _her_ New Caprica, and he can’t do it. He can’t do it to her.  
  
He can’t tell her of the drunken ramblings of a very not-sober Lee Adama and slighty less not-sober Kara Thrace yesterday night that he accidentally overheard in his slightly tipsy state (having left Dee with an extra promise to not overwork himself and to enjoy the festivities that night in her stead). He can’t tell her that her soon-to-be husband, golden-boy Apollo, most decidedly did not keep his hands (and worse, his heart) to himself last night. He’s also decided to keep from her an exact description of Apollo’s face that morning when he found out Thrace had married that Anders guy. (He can’t call him Lee right now; Lee makes him human – on their level, and unless he remembers Lee’s godlike-standing amongst men, he’d be too tempted to deck him during the wedding ceremony – good looks or not.)  
  
So instead, he sits and listens and is supportive while trying to simultaneously wipe what he knows into oblivion with a flood of alcohol (all the while rationalizing that Apollo had been drunk, and Starbuck is now a married, unavailable woman anyway). It helps that Dee’s face that morning, when she told him about Lee’s proposal and her acceptance, wasn’t blind love. She is heading in eyes wide open, and he can respect that. He can help her keep the illusion up as long as she needs him to, until she decides she’s ready to let go – if ever.  
  
He jokes about wedding gifts and President Baltar’s not-so-secret gifts and precedent for scandalous well-wishes. He promises her a song at her wedding. He promises that he would be honored to walk her down the aisle, should she feel awkward about asking the Old Man to do it, but tells her she should ask because he will definitely say yes.  
  
“He’s lucky, you know? Actually, they are _all_ lucky to have you, you know?” He slightly slurs. “You are going to be a terrific XO. You keep your head under pressure. You don’t have to worry so much.” All jokes about trophy spouses aside, he needs her to know that no matter what happens going forward, he’ll miss her. He trusts her, and he’ll stay by her side – even when separated by miles of distance and professional, bureaucratic boundaries. (And maybe a few secrets now – he resents Lee Adama for that too.)  
  
“Thanks, Felix.” She smiles back at him with warmth and happiness that spills over.  
  
They make quite a pair here now, he thinks.  
  
“And New Caprica’s lucky to have you. Just make sure you don’t let them work you to death. Make sure to have them do _some_ of the work at least.”  
  
“You sound like an XO already – giving orders so easily.”  
  
She rolls her eyes and shoves another glass into his hand even as she begins to change the topic to rumors that people had been tripping over the Admiral and former President all night near the sandbags.  
  


* * *

  
_One day everything will be well, that is our hope. Everything's fine today, that is our illusion._ ― Voltaire  
  
  
Felix expects to walk into empty quarters after that final session of the trial, knowing that most of the other crew members still kept their distance from him except for a few. But even most of those few avoided him following the… “incident” with Baltar in the interrogation room, and now, he’s perjured himself on the stand and _that man_ (no titles anymore and all of his former admiration has soured and broken into a tainted resentment – for all his false faith, his false hope – even until that very last moment) still walks free. He hates him, he _hates_ him (because he had _loved_ him and believed in him). And now, and maybe ever since the illusion of New Caprica, of the bright hope that the Baltar administration was supposed to represent, had shattered before his eyes bit by bit – sickness, and cold, and strikes, and starvation, and _cylons_ , he hates himself as well.  
  
That is why he is surprised to discover Dee standing at his door, just staring. “Dee?”  
  
She turns quickly, as surprised to see him as he is to see her. “Felix… Want to talk?” It’s not even so much a question as a suggestion, and so, he lets her in.  
  
And he is a bit frightened, because he remembers the confessional they had with each other a little over two years ago (it seems much longer, as if decades have passed since that first fight – at the very least, he feels much older), but if there’s anyone he can trust with the truth, if there’s anyone to keep him honest, she’s the one. Possibly the only one left, so when they sit on his bunk, and she pulls out some algae crackers and moonshine (from gods know where), he immediately confesses, “I lied, Dee. I swore to tell the truth, and I _lied_.”  
  
She nods, quietly, and answers with the unexpected. “I left him, Felix. I promised to love and cherish him as his wife – no matter what burdens may come our way, and I left, because I couldn’t stomach his _honor_ \- of all things.” She laughs though it comes out a bit like a sob.  
  
“I should have told you, Dee.”  
  
She shakes her head, “You didn’t have to, Felix. I have eyes, and probably better ears than you.” Her voice is dry for all that she seems to be on the verge of tears.  
  
Felix hesitates, and then loops an arm around her shoulders as she snakes an arm around his waist. They lean into each other and support each other, each buckling a little bit under the weight of their respective confessions, but time had taken them far, and each sees a bit clearer for having said the truth, the illusions dissipating after a long, hard trip. This time, there’s no fight to apologize for. Their anger is all spent.  
  
“I need you, Dee, to keep me honest.”  
  
She does laugh then, and she almost sounds like herself. “I’m not a commanding officer any more, I can’t force you to do anything, but…” She pauses then… “As your _friend_ , I can try, and you can let me know when I’m being a ridiculous, moony-eyed kid.”  
  
Felix smiles at her laugh. “Deal, as long as you tell me whether all the talk about the Admiral and President is true.”  
  
  
_**Fin.**_


End file.
